Hope
by KayleeStorms
Summary: Set before the epilogue in Mockingjay.           What a shame we all became, such fragile broken things, a memory remains just a tiny spark. I gave it all my oxygen, to let the flames begin, so let the flames begin.
1. Chapter 1

**Set before the epilogue in Mockingjay, and brings a bit more insight on about how Katniss feels. At least how I think she felt. If there are mistakes, I apologize, since English isn't my birth language and I'm only 14. I hope you'll like it :)**

_What a shame we all became_

_Such fragile broken things_

_A memory remains just a tiny spark_

_I gave it all my oxygen_

_To let the flames begin_

_So let the flames begin.  
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Chapter One

I wake up with a start. My newest nightmare has left me panting and sweaty. The people who died because of me were pushing me underwater, suffocating me. Everyone was there. Rue, Thresh, Clove, Cato, Cinna, Finnick, Madge. The list goes on. But the worst part was when I heard Peeta's voice inside my head. That's what woke me up. It was screaming at me. "_Twelve burned down, didn't it? Because of her? Because of Katniss!_ _Don't trust her, Delly. I did, and she tried to kill me. She killed my friends and family. Don't even go near her! She's a mutt!"_ I didn't realize I remember this so vividly. But my dreams never fail to remind me. I am broken, inside and outside, and I'm not even trying to deny it. The rebels have won. But they have paid a price. And the face of their revolution, the mockingjay, stopped singing. The horrors of the Hunger Games and the rebellion secured a stranglehold around me. Instead of accepting the pain, I shuttled off. That is easier. I can't bare thinking about anything anymore. If I think about all the people I have loved that are damaged beyond repair or dead, I would die of the pain. So I spend my days lying in bed, staring dully at the white ceiling. Nothing ever changes about it. I like it. It is solid. It can't change and hurt me. The Capitol can't use it against me. The Capitol we all knew is gone, but the terrors are still etched upon my brain. I'll never look at it any different than a vile and monstrous place, and its citizens will never be anything but alien to me. I don't know what happened in the world after Paylor became president. I don't even care.

Peeta comes every day and joins me for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I don't know why. Honestly, you'd think he'd give up on me already. But it looks like he didn't. Actually, when you think about it, it's not that surprising after all. It's what Peeta would do. Trying to redeem a favor I did to him, even though it means nothing now. He tries to catch my eye a lot of times, but I avoid it. I know that, if I face Peeta now, I would burst. All the emotions hidden deep would come rushing out, and I would lose this little sanity I still posses. I can not force myself to remember all of the things that happened to that light and good boy before the Games started. I know that his unconditional love for me is forever gone, and forever lost. And I still love him, though I try not to. But you just can't forget how you felt about someone. You can just pretend you forgot. He was the thing that hurt me the most. Not the dead. They are safe and happy now, in a better place. But Peeta is changed so much; it's like he's dead inside. And I can't deal with it. I can't face the Capitol version Peeta. I don't want to remember the moment before the first Games when he told me that he will not let the Capitol change him. The Capitol ruined him. They destroyed someone so pure and innocent. And I know that he couldn't possibly stay the same, and I don't blame him in a million years. But they broke the strongest. And I lost my hope. Because if he can't overcome the difficulties, how can I? I detached from him. Just like my mother long before, and just like she did now. She can't deal with it either. She can't deal with the fact that she's gone. That Prim is dead. I project the image of Prim's little body, burning on that square. My body starts to shake violently, and sobs ratchet it. I feel sick. How could I let this thought spill? This was exactly the reason why I decided not to think anymore. Because, every once in a while, something like this would happen. A long lost memory would surface. It would take all over my body. And then I destroyed everything that came into my reach, until I hurt myself or have nothing left to ruin. Then I would calm down. I grip my elbows tightly together, scratching out the delicate pink skin that yet has not healed completely from the fire. And it couldn't, because I always ravage it again. I clench my eyelids until I see little flecks of red and yellow. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I repeat again and again until l I feel sweet numbness flowing all over my body. I was getting better at this. I open my eyes gingerly and take in my surrounding. The floor I'm sitting on is filled with small litter. It was hard to differentiate stuff out in the dark. I never turn on the light. It's too exuberant, and it reminds me of being happy. Dark suits my mood better. Greasy Sae stopped her attempts to enter my room after a while. Every time she tried to clean up or move anything at all, I started wallowing on the floor and screaming my lungs out. So she gave up. She makes me food to eat, and cleans up everything else. I sit in the dark, staring at the little shard of broken glass, until I hear Sae calling me for lunch. I get up, and hobble down the stairs. In the first week I wouldn't move. She'd come up in my room, which evoked hysteria, and dragged me down to eat. After a while, she'd put up food in front of my room when this failed. I never even touched it. So they sedated me and fed me, when they were out of options. I decided to stop fighting. It didn't bring me any good.

The light is blinding. I squint around the clean room, and slip in the chair across Peeta. As always I could feel him looking, trying to see if any progress was made. It made me a little self-conscious before. But then I learned how not to care. I suppose he saw enough, because he stops staring. I take a couple spoonfuls of the stew. It's good, but I don't register the taste. I don't care what it tastes like. I push my chair from the table after a few minutes of this, leaving a broached stew, and start to make my way as fast as I can towards the stairs.

"Katniss" Greasy Sae calls. I ignore her, so she repeats, this time with a warning edge. I keep walking. I'm getting closer, but my muscles are sore and wobbly. I knew they would try to talk to me sooner or later. After they realize that they can't just ignore this and hope it would go away.

"Katniss, stop" It was not Greasy Sae this time, but Peeta. I shudder. His voice brings a gust of memories, all of them those who I want to forget, just like Peeta did. Just like he forgot everything good that ever existed about me.

I hear the chair squeak against the floor. I stop walking. I suddenly feel a light touch on my arm, and turn around. Peeta is touching my arm. No one touched me in at least four weeks. I jerk my hand away in surprise. The spot where he touched me was warm. I'm afraid. Afraid of the emotions this was going to bring on later.

"Katniss" he continues softly. "Look at me"

I refuse, staring at my bare feet.

He reaches out to touch me again, and I flinch even farther. I look up, a reflex. And he is looking up too. Our eyes meet, for the first time in weeks. The blueness of them is entrancing. It is just like before. Before the rebellion, before the hijacking, before the Hunger Games. But these are not quite the eyes of the boy with the bread. The color was his. But not the look they gave away. Tears start to gather in my eyes, but I don't look away. They are patronizing somehow, soothing, maybe even frightened. But there's something more. And then I finally recognize the look. It was pity. I let out a shaky sob. He grabs my arm before I can collect myself and react.

"Listen to me Katniss" he says, his voice determined and less soft, eyes still locking me in his gaze. "You need to snap out of this. This isn't you. This was never you"

I wrench my eyes from his. The despair turns into anger. I try to shake his hand off, but he keeps his tight grip.

"Let go of me" I say with a coarse trembling voice. "Let go"

"No, Katniss, I won't let go. She would have wanted you to live on. If you died in the Hunger Games, you'd want Prim to keep on living, too"

Hearing Peeta talk about Prim like he knows her triggered something ugly inside me. I started shrieking violently at him.

"YOU KNOW NOTHING! SHE'S DEAD! DEAD! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT WHAT SHE WOULD WANT! YOU-" The emotions were suffocating me. I take a ragged breath between my screams, thrashing to lose his grip on me. "STOP TOUCHING ME! LET ME GO, LET ME GO NOW!"

He ignores me and drags me closer, keeping my rocketing body framed in between his arms. I go completely mad. I try to bite him but he manages to block that out. I scream and make horrible noises and say awful things. He holds me until I lose my strength, until the memories drain all the anger, until the madness goes away and leaves only fresh wounds and tears behind.

"Let me go, Peeta. Just…let…go" I whimper tearfully against his broad shoulder. "Why do you still try? You can't save me"

I want him to stop fighting. Not just now, but forever. He can't take me out from this dark place I'm in. He lets go of my wrists and cups my face gently. He looks deep into my eyes. They look kind and caring. Just like the old Peeta.

"Because that's what we do, Katniss." He whispers "We protect each other."

He waits until I take in his words. He keeps looking at me, and I catch myself wanting this moment to last forever. I feel secure, as normal as ever. I want his love and protection. I want him to save me. Because he is the only one who can do that. His lips curve in a small, perfect smile, as he leans in and kisses me. The kiss is so soft and lovely. It is genuine. He presses me lightly on his chest and strokes my hair. Is it possible? Is it possible that Peeta feels something for me other than confusion and pity? Is it possible that he did overcome the obstacles? I know the answer. It is. Peeta was never a piece in their Games. He will always be Peeta, no matter how hard they try to take his humanity away from him. But goodness just radiates from him, and you can't erase that. You can just try, but the real you is behind somewhere. And I feel something stirring up inside me. It was a strange feeling. I clung on to it as I locked my arms around his neck. It felt almost happy. It was something I only felt when I was with Peeta, something only he could awaken inside of me.

It was hope.

Hope that life will continue on. And I know now it will, because Peeta's with me. And that is the only thing that matters. Not the dead; they won't come back. But living can become dead, if they try to live in the past. So I decide to cherish every moment and appreciate it. Because I'm still alive; and we're still together. I will live; because love's worth living for. And with that thought I close my eyes and rest in Peeta's arms, until I lose consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**I decided to write another chapter after the two nice reviews I got. Thanks so much! In this one, I decided to give more thought to Gale. Next one is going to be her mother, and a nice twist is going to happen soon. And Katniss won't always be all moody and dead. Political things will go on. Have you ever thought that her assassinating Coin went too smoothly and without any punishment? Well I have. And I plan a mean twist. **

**So stay tuned in and enjoy the ride ;) **

_Only the strongest will survive _

_Lead me to heaven when we die _

_I have a shadow on the wall _

_I'll be the one to save us all _

Chapter Two

I wake up with anxiousness. The room has something sinister to it, and it doesn't quite feel right. The dark makes me uncomfortable. I rise from the bed and trudge to the light switch. The light blazes like the sun, so I press my hands to my eyes as hard as I can. It makes me feel weak to be blind like this, like prey waiting to be ambushed. Right now, anyone could sneak up behind my back. I try to open my eyes, but the light was still too blinding. As I squeeze them shut, I fumble around to find the switch again. But I can only feel the cold walls. I realize how exactly cold they are. Like cave walls. And the only cave walls I have ever touched were the arena cave walls. Panic rushes through my body. Am I still in the arena, sleeping in Peeta's embrace? I choke up. My whole body feels cold and stiff as I sob. I want to open my eyes, but I'm afraid. I am so afraid that this was all a dream. As much as a terrible dream it would be, at least Peeta would be alive. And we would be out, not having to face the death and fear again.

I hear a faint snap by my left. I grit my teeth tight to suppress another sob. Is that Cato, coming to kill me? Coming to kill Peeta? The thought arouses me, and I open my eyes. The light is gone, and the room is embraced in its usual darkness. Colorful spots dance around my vision, and the world sways beneath my feet. The relief is so strong, it makes me dizzy. I was home, and I was safe. I swallow my sob, feeling like a weakling. The Games have changed me more that I could ever imagine.

I remember the ruffle, and a fragment of my panic comes back. I turn around stiffly.

Peeta. He's standing in my bedroom, looking at me. I gasp in surprise as I focus my eyes on him. And it strikes me again how handsome he really is, with the blond locks falling on his milk white skin, clouding his blue eyes. His lips stretch out in an untroubled smile. It is so light it looks wrong compared with the memory of Peeta I carry in my mind. I strain my eyes and take a step towards him. What is he doing here? I remember about yesterday, how he held me and kissed me, and my heart fills with longing. It takes all I have to not fling myself in his arms. I warn myself that yesterday might be just a spur of the moment. He may not love me, but just pity me, or think he owes me love. I started to feel awkward and doubtful. And because I didn't know what to do, I just stand there. And he does, too. Something about his face feels wrong. It is similar to someone I knew before. It isn't Peeta's, but someone else's. Someone I used to love too.

I take a couple of steps forward before I can think otherwise. The recognition hits hard, almost knocking me off my feet. Everything is the same, but the eyes. In the place of his warm and blue eyes, was a pair of steel gray ones.

The Peeta with Gale's eyes lunges forward, his arms outstretched. But I know now, they aren't made to embrace me. Just like before, they were destined to lock around my neck, and choke me.

I wake up screaming.

My whole body is shaking with shock of this horrid nightmare. I knew that all of the emotions I spent yesterday would come back at me. I knew that my mind would twist anything remotely pleasant that happens in my life. I try not to think about it. But now that I have decided not to, it's all I can think about. I shiver when I recall the desperation I felt when I though I was in the arena again. I had dreams like that a couple of other times, but there was never Gale in any of them. I suppose that with all the dead, I forgot about Gale. Tall, strong and masculine Gale. My best friend Gale, my lover Gale, my cousin Gale and the newest, my enemy Gale. Not quite an enemy, but he could fit in the description. It was his bomb, his bomb that killed my little fragile Prim, who had her whole life in front of her. The reason why I have volunteered to die had perished. With him, everything I fought for was destroyed. It messed me up more than anything could. I wipe away the tears from my cheeks. I know that it isn't Gale's fault entirely. He only made the bomb. He didn't use it. But if he hadn't made it, Prim would still be here. I would live with her and my mother, and maybe the world wouldn't be such a terrible place. But I could find in myself to forgive him now, or I could try. I needed Gale. Peeta was my dandelion, but Gale was the vines that kept me together. I need his help. I'm sure I'll never fully recover without Gale. And I am sure, that I would be a different person in there wasn't Gale to be there for me. But then again, does it matter? I am changed now, anyway. But another truth faces me. Gale took care of my mother and Prim, while I was in the Games. The baker said he'd take care of my Prim, but for Gale, I know he brought them game everyday, no matter that it meant less for his family. A forgotten memory creeps back on me.

It was Friday, and we were hunting in silence, both trying our best to find most food we could for our families. Gale's snares had been a complete success. I walked as silently as I could, barely even breathing, but there wasn't an animal around. It was too cold. I picked away a handful of wild sorrel and onion, but that wouldn't suffice. We were used to meat now, and Prim's thin jacket had too many holes to keep her warm. I needed thread to buy, and it wasn't cheap. Nothing was cheap. I saw a small squirrel in a tree and shot it on sight. But it wasn't a good shot. My hands were trembling from the cold and the promise of meat, so I pierced it in the stomach. I climbed the tree gingerly with my frozen limbs, collecting the squirrel. Gale observed the mess.

"That's a pretty bad hit" he said.

"I know" I snapped back at him.

That was when the wind blew, and I had to close my jaw so it doesn't chatter. We proceeded a bit farther, but it wasn't getting any warmer. The air I breathed out came in a white gust. After about fifteen minutes of this Gale said:

"Maybe we should head back now. It's getting late"

I wanted to reject, but going deeper in the woods isn't always the guarantee to find game. Mostly, it's just a danger to find wolves or bears. We made our way to the edge of the woods when I stopped walking.

"I'm not going back. I'm staying to hunt" I said the words as slowly and clearly as I could between the shivers.

"Well, I have to go. They're waiting for me now." Gale answered a bit less indifferent. I shrugged and turned away to the dark curtain of the woods.

I perched on a tree and waited a couple of minutes. But I almost fell asleep, and I knew, if I slept now, I would never wake again. And then who would take care of Prim? I saw a rabbit scuttling through the forest floor, but it wasn't one of those rich and fat rabbits Gale collected. It looked starved. I almost felt pity as I shot my arrow. This time it was a good hit in the eye. I jumped down and collected the skinny rabbit. A bit better, but it still won't be enough. I strap it to my waist to continue. I wondered through the woods aimlessly for a half an hour before I headed back in defeat. It was getting so cold my fingers probably couldn't even fire an arrow now. I would get myself killed, and that, I couldn't afford. I stumble to the electric fence and almost walk past him. Gale. He was standing there, waiting for someone. It made me perplexed. Who else would be here in the other side of the fence at this time but me? As I came near, I saw the look on his face. It was compassionate and admiring and determined all at once. I opened my mouth to ask him what on earth he was doing here when he thrust two of the fat rabbits in my hand. I blinked in confusion, but he just smiled slightly and left me. It touched me deeply, thought it felt wrong that his family would lack now. It reminded me of Peeta so much. I stumbled home to Prim, and we feasted that night. Tomorrow, she had a patched up and perfect jacket. Gale was waiting for me, like always, and he didn't say a thing.

"Thanks" I muttered, embarrassed, as we walked trough the woods.

"No, Catnip. Thank you" he said. I thought he might be mocking me, but that wasn't it. I suppose this was his way to express how glad he was to go through this with someone else. And just like that, Gale wasn't an opponent to me anymore. He as an ally, a companion. We started gathering and hunting together, sharing everything equally, no matter who caught or gathered.

I felt tears prickling in my eyes again. There was so much I owed him. And I had let him leave me without a word, because of something that he never even dreamed of doing. Because I know Prim's death affected him. He loved her too. The guilt he lives through every day must be tremendous. And I did nothing to help him, but made it worse. He always took care of me selflessly. He never thought of me owing him anything. And this was how I paid him back; by giving up on him. Just like I gave up on Peeta. Peeta and Gale. I don't even know who they are anymore. I curl up in my bed and try to push all of the new emotions away. It is too much for me. But they settled deep, along with new memories of Gale. More material to make my nightmares diverse. I close my eyes and drift away with hopes of peaceful dreams.

As if I deserve them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Woo, another two reviews! Thank you all, it really made my day. :) I decided to take a faster pace. I hope this wasn't too rushed or sudden. Thanks again for the reviews, and dig in.**

_We won't let them change  
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_How we feel in our hearts  
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_We're not gonna let them control us  
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_We won't let them shove  
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_All their thoughts in our heads  
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_And we'll never be like them._

Chapter 3

"Katniss! Lunch!"

I rub my eyes and untangle the sheets around my body. I was running in my dream. I was afraid of something, but I can't remember what exactly that was. I had a lot to be afraid of. As I was running, the world started shrinking around me, closing in. I ran faster, but the more I ran, the more trapped I became. The surroundings shift in a coal mine. Suddenly, I heard a mockingjay singing. I lifted up my hand, and it settled on it. It looked at me, and its eyes were strangely intelligent. As I tried to decipher the tune it was singing, the eyes of the bird became Rue's brown. And the tune it was singing started sounding like a slow version of Rue's four-note whistle. Although it seemed eerie, I wasn't afraid of it. I always imagined Rue as a mockingjay, free and lovely. But the peace hadn't last long. The mockingjay, Rue, stopped abruptly. It let out a high pitched shriek and took off. The world shook and rumbled above me, and the ceiling came rushing down. I didn't even have time to scream.

I get up and face the cracked glass of the mirror. At first I stand there dumbly, not recognizing my reflection. The eyes of the girl were glazed and accompanied with dark purple rings. The dark brown strands fell in clumps on her sunken, unhealthy face. Even her lips seemed to lose color. I break the stare. I don't want to look at what I became anymore.

I think of Peeta, groomed and handsome, and then me, disheveled and dirty. I feel ashamed for a moment, and then wave off myself. Why does it matter how I look? Why would Peeta mind? He probably doesn't even see me as a woman anymore. And to tell the truth, I don't look like one, either. I'll bother about how I look when I find someone who cares. I do try to comb the greasy clumps anyway. But I would have to wash my hair to make any real progress, but that is a way to big of a hassle, so I just leave my hair be. I feel bad again as I remember how Peeta held me to sleep, and carried me up to bed the other day. But I dismissed it; it was a mercy act. Just like washing Haymitch on that train to the Capitol.

Where _is_ Haymitch? I haven't seen him in forever.

Memories flood my brain again, but I ignore them as much as I can. I don't want to think about him now.

I descend the stairs as quickly as my numb limbs could manage. Even the slightest walk left me fatigued, so I fling myself into the chair gratefully. I blink around until I realize what's different. Peeta isn't here.

"Where's Peeta?" I croak at Greasy Sae and bite my tongue. Drat my mindlessness. My throat is raw of screaming at Peeta, and I feel embarrassed before I can stop myself.

"He's not coming today" She said with a peculiar tone I didn't bother to figure out.

I shrug, but in reality, I wasn't indifferent to it. I wonder what made him drop out of lunch the first time since my staying here at District 12. Most likely the episode yesterday. Or was it the day before yesterday? I don't know. Nevertheless, I know now the kissing and the hugging was pure benevolence. I bet he didn't come today so he wouldn't have to pretend to love this disgusting crazed girl. I eat the meat and rice Sae made me today to show how much I don't care. But I cared. In fact, I cared so much I felt the need to cry over myself again. And in my heart, I hoped it was something else. Peeta is too good to do this to me. Or is he? I don't deserve him to be good to me. When he was hijacked and confused, I was mad at him. Why didn't I try to help him out? I even hated him for not thinking good of me anymore. And he must know it. I finish the meal in usual silence. Greasy Sae waits patiently for me to step away so she can wash the plate. I hear her talking about something, but I mute it out. When I finish lunch, I walk past Greasy Sae like she's not even there, and I feel a bit guilty doing so. But she must be used to it by now. I make my way back to my room and sink into bed. I don't feel like thinking or sleeping. I just sit there and think about what I am going to do. Because of how bored I am, I stand up and shove the curtains of my mirror aside. The room shines with sunlight. What month is it? The sunlight is bright and warm, so I guess April. I stood there, letting the light ease my body, and take the tension away. I didn't realize how much I missed the light of the day. I open the window eagerly, and a gust of air blows into my face. I sit on the window sill and bathe in the sun until I doze off.

I dream of the Meadow. It was full with bright primrose flowers. I settled on a patch of it and just gazed at the clear blue sky. It was the first dream without nightmares I had ever had in a long, long while.

As I break off my doze, I feel refreshed and almost lightheaded. The sun has become uncomfortable on my skin, so I move away, but I don't pull the curtains back again. It feels like this patch of sun is my sanity spot. If I let the darkness take me down, I don't know how fast I'd come back again.

I walk into the bathroom. First I decide to wash my hands so I cool them off a bit, but it felt so good I ended up splashing my whole arms and neck with it. I strip of my clothes and step in the bath, filling it with cold water. The dirt and old skin washed away from my body. I let the water drain away, and then fill the tub again. It was peaceful and repetitive I commanded my brain to observe the steady water slow to keep it busy. Finally, when the water didn't get dirty anymore I close my eyes.

Peeta. Does he hate me? Am I disgusting to him? I recall the optimistic thoughts of continuing my life because he loves me, and because we're alive. It was so much easier to say than do. And now that the moment is over, I'm not so sure about how he isn't changed. Where is he? I need him. It's almost scary how independent I became. But I can't live with my bad thoughts and emotions. I need something to take me away from me. Just a kiss. A kiss was enough to pull me out from the abyss of depression.

I sink underwater and hold my breath, in hopes of driving away Peeta from my mind. It worked, but then I remembered Finnick. I resurfaced with a loud sob that worked its way into tears. Finnick, Finnick, Finnick. I killed Finnick. I killed him with that useless mission to assassinate Snow. And then I haven't even killed him. Every thought of what I was supposed to do drained away when I saw that children on the square. Opening the little silver parachutes that meant gifts of food and medicine. Except they were bombs. Snow told me Coin did that. That he wouldn't kill off a bunch of Capitol children. And now that I think it, it's probably true. I'll never regret killing Coin and not Snow. I'll just regret not killing them both.

I wonder how Annie is doing. Is she keeping sane for her son? New tears escape my eyes. But now there's more then just sadness. It's rage that builds up in my body. Rage that so many families are destroyed, and so many people are dead with grief and turned into madness. Annie was never completely sane; unless when she was with Finnick. And now he's dead. I tried to imagine what I would do when Peeta would be dead. My body trembled with the thought, but it wasn't a hard question. I'd kill myself.

Was the rebellion worth all of this? It must have been. But I don't feel happy or relieved at all. The losses were just too big. It feels like this life I'm living is a war. A war between living on or reliving the past and grieving the dead. There's nothing glorious in life. Except maybe love.

And there I was again. Funny how all of my thoughts came back to Peeta.

I wash my hair until it feels clean, and its shocks me how neglected I was. I wrap a towel around my body and hair and step out of the foamy bathwater. I look at myself in the small mirror over the sink. I look better, but still nowhere near good.

I let my hair fall from the towel and braid it my usual style. I trudge to the dresser. I pick up a simple green tunic and leather pants, and slip my feet into hunting boots. I was ready to close the closet when I see a gold shine on a red burgundy shirt. I pick the cold metal. My mockingjay pin. In a spur of the moment I pin it on my shirt. But then I rip it off and fling it in a corner, feeling little satisfaction as I do so.

Now that I was clean, I see what the mess my room is. There isn't an object that is whole. Everything was battered, ripped or broken. I change the dirty sheets and replace them with fresh ones.

Then I freeze. I am cleaning. I am in clean clothes, and my hair is neat and braided.

I'm back.

That's when I hear a light knock on the door.

"Yes?" I call out cautiously. There is no answer.

"Who is it?" I say louder. There's only silence.

I make my way to the door slowly and levelly. Why would Greasy Sae need something? It was too early for dinner, and besides, she had better things to do then hang out in my house all day. So the only one who could have knocked was Peeta.

I open the door wide open. At first I couldn't register what was resting on a wall across them. A canvas. It was green. My favorite color. And in the corners were faces. Rue and Cinna and Finnick and Madge. And in the middle was Prim's face. It was smiling, and it looked happy. They were all happy. Prim was so beautiful. So fresh and lovely and alive. And I didn't feel sad, for the first time, thinking of her. Because she will never be dead for me. She will live on in my heart, and the hearts of all that loved her. Along with Rue, Cinna, Finnick, Madge and everyone else. They are all alive in my memories. I pick up the beautiful painting, and spot that Cinna has a streak of gold on his eyelids. I even crack a ghost of a smile.

I carry it back in my room and set it beside the closet, so I can observe it. I see a small inscription in the corner. It was in deep red. I trace the line of the letters with my finger. _Peeta_. That's what was written. As if I didn't know. Who else would be able to make such a work of art, and who else would have given it to me? There was an inscription even smaller bellow. _Turn, _it said. So I turned the painting.

And it's my face on it. Painted with sharp lines of red, orange and yellow. My face is crowned with fire.

And there was another message for me under it.

"_Fire is catching. And if we burn, you burn with us"_


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry if this chapter has more mistakes or if it's not as good as the other ones. I did this in a rush because I'm procrastinating and I should really start getting some work done. Got a C in Croatian today, but 99 % at English. I guess I'll just move to Britain or something.**

**Anyway, I hope you'll like this somewhat darker chapter, and thank you for the reviews. You're really too nice. :) I might not update as frequently as I did, but I'll try to update at least three times a week. Enjoy!**

_We chase misprinted lies  
><em>

_We face the path of time  
><em>

_And yet I fight  
><em>

_And yet I fight  
><em>

_This battle all alone  
><em>

_No one to cry to  
><em>

_No place to call home._

Chapter 4

I prod at the stew on the kitchen table. I don't feel like eating. I ate the whole meat and rice meal today. And besides, Peeta still isn't here. As much as the painting washed away my suspicion, this missing out brought it on back again. Is he painting again? Sure he wouldn't trouble himself so much for me?

I had been sure that the reason of his not coming to lunch today was working on that marvelous canvas. But maybe he still wants distance. The painting most likely does not have a deeper meaning. Maybe he was bored and painted it, but didn't have space in his house so he gave it to me. And that theory might've worked if it wasn't for that sketch on the other side.

"_Fire is catching. And if we burn, you burn with us."_

Was that message meant to aggravate me? To remember me of my Mockingjay days, when he was captured and tortured, and I all I did was making little promo videos for the Capitol and the rebels? Or maybe he just thought it was a catchy line to match the painting? I suppose I won't know until I ask him, if I have the guts. And if he shows his face around here anymore. I resist the temptation to ask Greasy Sae about him. It would show how much I care about him, and showing feelings is a way to get you hurt.

It was funny how her eyes bulged out when she saw me all clean and pampered. She struggled to collect herself, but her gaze was glued on me. I almost laughed at her expression. Makes me think of how I looked before.

I scoop a piece of a potato.

"Katniss, are you listening to me?"

I focus on Greasy Sae and give her a puzzled look. Was she talking to me? Oh well.

"I said, your mother wants to come from District 13 to visit you"

The spoon freezes halfway to my mouth.

"My what?" I splutter out in surprise.

"Yes, your mother. She sent a letter today morning. I told you about it at lunch." She says and eyes me reproachfully.

I look at her, completely bemused. My mother, coming to see me? The stew in my stomach jumps around gleefully. I lower the trembling spoon back in my stew, still holding on it in shock.

"My mother is coming to see me? All the way from District 13?" I repeat dumbly.

"Yes, well, that's what I said, didn't I? First time you've ever paid attention to something I said, eh?"

"Oh. Sorry." I say without even thinking about it. The only thing I could have thought of was my mom, caring enough to pay me a visit. She loved me, she did. But we were always at odds somehow, ever since she left me to fend for myself when my father died.

"Don't think about it, you've had a lot on your mind lately" she dismisses me "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"The painting, girly. The one that Peeta left"

Of course she knew. I felt like there was a ploy they played against me.

"It's beautiful" I say flatly, still angry that Peeta isn't here. "My mother. When did she say she would come?"

"As soon as it's possible. President Paylor is building special trains for visits. They are not supposed to be working yet, but she's willing to make an exception for you. Taken the fact that you're the Mockingjay."

I nod thoughtfully. I miss my mother. But I am afraid to see her again. She is yet another memory I wished to be hidden. Somehow I think it would be easier not to be alive again. Just eat and sleep again. It worked perfectly fine for me.

"And letters. You can send letters now?"

"Yes. President Paylor sure is making a change in Panem."

"And, all of the Districts have mail, right?" I ask, trying to sound casual.

"Yes, all of them. Even District 2" She sees right through me.

What did I expect? That Gale would pretend like nothing happened between us? I seem to take a lot of people for granted. I should've apologized. And now, I could do it. But I didn't want to. He should apologize to me. After all, he's the one that killed my sister.

I throw the spoon on the table, and it skittles and hits the wall next to it with a loud thud. I push my chair savagely and stomp to my room past Greasy Sae. She looks unaffected, like she expected another tantrum from me. Once I'm there I throw myself on the bed, trying to compose myself. I burry my nails into my palms and bite the inside of my cheek. I feel blood flowing steadily into my mouth. I start rocking back and forth.

How dare he. How dare he not care about me anymore. How dare he throw away everything we had. He doesn't deserve my apology. And if he thinks that it's not him that killed Prim, he's wrong. He killed her, and he killed all of the other children on the square. He's the monster, and not me, and not Peeta. I killed to survive. What happened to Peeta couldn't be stopped. But Gale was fine. His family lived. But he turned in an abomination. He designed bombs that killed children, whether he knew it or not. Bombs kill. And it should be on your conscience, no matter if you killed a bunch of children, or a bunch of Peacekeepers. They were humans too. Where they made to enter this war? How many died because of the malice of society, how many innocent, and how many guilty? But it all comes down to the same thing. People die. Good or bad, they are gone. And Gale contributed to it.

Maybe it wasn't fair to think like that, but in my rage, I didn't care. The image of Gale, the strong and admirable Gale were gone and replace by the image of mad Gale killing people. And I am glad he didn't write now. And if he ever dares to write to me, I will burn the letters to ashes.

I stare at the wonderful painting resting on my closet, and I want to destroy it. I don't want people being kind to me. I don't want Peeta in my life anymore. I don't even want to live anymore. All progress that might have been made was reversed now. I tore off my shirt and untangled my hair, picking up a handful of it in process. I scream in rage. I take a lamp from my night table and fling to the painting. I miss by a couple of inches. That enrages me even more. I think about how Peeta and Greasy Sae are talking behind my back. I jump of my bed and crawl to the painting. The people on it look at me hatefully. They hate me because I killed them, because I'm alive, and they aren't.

I pierce it with my fist as hard as I can.

And I stop. I look at the gaping black hole right in the middle of Prim's face. I sit there, frozen. And I start crying. Miserable. Miserable because my sister died, miserable because of Gale, miserable that I ruined Peeta's work.

I cry until my tears drain up. I curl on the floor in front of the butchered painting. I shiver of the cold, but my mind was so worn of crying and living, it gave out to the pain, and I fell asleep.

I dreamt of Peeta. He was looking at me. He wasn't angry, but somber. He looked at me, until I started crying in my dream, too.

"Why, Katniss? Why?" He asked me in pain.

"Because I hate it Peeta! And I hate you too!" I scream at him, tears running from my eyes.

"You don't hate me, Katniss." He said kindly "The only person you hate is you."

He approached me and hugged me. My dream self started falling apart, while Peeta was trying to keep the pieces of me together by holding me more tightly.

But no one can keep me together anymore.


End file.
